Protection
by Jessie4
Summary: Everyone thinks of Yamato as the guardian with a heart of gold. Except Yamato.


"Protection"   
A short Yamasama 'fic by Jessie   
 

They say when a child's parents go through a divorce, the child will oftentimes look for reasons to blame it on himself. I didn't need to look for it at all. I -know- it was my fault.

 Don't let the gossip fool you, my father was never an alcoholic. He never beat my mom. He was never anything but civil to Takeru and me. My mother was no angel sent from heaven who swooped my brother away from hell, and I'm certainly not the selfless Adonis who gave his own happiness away so that his brother could have a better life. Don't believe everything you read.

 From the moment he was born, Takeru was given the world. Anything he could fathom was his. And what had I gotten? Pushed aside, so the little brat could have his day in the sun. No, he'd never know the harshness of days spent without a meal, because his parents were too busy with their careers to be bothered with a son. He wouldn't know how hard it was to be raised by parents who were mere children themselves, with no idea how to deal with a crying child. He wouldn't be punished for showing emotion, on the sole basis of a mother and father with no clue of what they could do. He wouldn't be ignored. He wouldn't be able to eavesdrop in on a midnight conversation and hear himself be referred to as "the Mistake."

 Takeru would be happy. He'd know nothing but love from the parents who planned to have him. He'd be sheltered, and pampered, and protected by a strong older brother with nothing else to do. God, how I hated him.

 I make no bones about the fact that I wanted him dead. It was clear from he first moment I saw him, when I saw MY mother's eyes shine with a love for him that I'd never before seen, let alone for me.

 "He's your little brother, Matt. Protect him. Keep him safe."

 It was all I'd heard for so long. Nobody ever paid that sort of care for me. Sure, Takeru was the baby. Babies are always taken care of, right? Well, where was the knight in shining armor when I starved for days on end? Where was MY protector when I was beaten daily because my grades were too high to be acceptable as "cool"??

 I let myself slip into mediocrity after Takeru was born. Barely passing in classes, rarely speaking, I only confronted my classmates when TK was threatened in some way. After I let my fists do some talking, it became generally accepted that I was the strong silent type, but more importantly, that Takeru was off limits. I'd done my job. I kept TK safe. He didn't deserve a bit of what I was doing for him.

 The arguments became a little more interesting after I'd allowed my reputation to spread. Suddenly, the gushing about how cute Takeru was vanished, replaced by shouts of how "YOUR son was suspended again!!", or, "YOUR mistake is failing in History!".  I'm sure if they knew how the noise made their precious TK cry, they'd have learned how to keep it down. I think it was then that I went to him for comfort, allowing him to cuddle up with me in bed as they shifted the blame of just who was responsible for my conception. Takeru became something of a stuffed animal for me, something to hug and keep myself from breaking down. I decided right then and there that I'd never let the brat see me cry. When he stared up at me with those big, blue eyes, silently begging to be protected… Let's just say something inside me melted. I was his knight. I wasn't about to let him down. 

"Protect your brother, Yamato." Why couldn't somebody take a little time out of their own busy schedule and protect me instead...? 

 The divorce came to me as no surprise, and neither was the custody battle. As expected, both wanted TK and neither wanted me. They could have at least had the decency to have sent us off to a babysitter while they fought like they did. It would've broken my heart, if I wasn't already aware of how undesirable a son I was. I sat through the hearings showing as little emotion as I could, clinging to Takeru like a lifesaver to keep me from drowning in my own depression. I was Eight years old.

 So don't presume to pretend you understand a bit about what motivates me, or why I act like I do. Don't tell me frivolous stories about my abusive father and holier-than-thou mother. And don't you dare assume you know why I protect my little brother to this day. You don't know the half of it.   
  


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It's my first Digific. I'm hoping it didn't come off as the generic "Yamato feeling sorry for himself" story we see all too often. Please mail all flames and praise to MinakoX33@aol.com 


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